Bloodmaster
by hemospectrometer
Summary: John wakes up tied to a chair and is interrogated by two psychos who seem to be under the impression he's a demon of some sort. The orange eyed one seems to be a bit more sympathetic though, perhaps he can convince him to let him go. Demonstuck with an incubus!John and hunter!Dirk and Dave. Suggestive bc of incubus reasons. Frick-fracking is done in later chapters. Mainly Dirk/John
1. Chapter 1

You jerk awake to a searing pain on your face and dripping down your chest. You blink as the cloudy blackness hanging around the edges of your vision slowly clears away. You're in a small but bright room with a covered skylight. It's shabby and unkempt, like nobody's been in the place for years. The light filtering in hurts your eyes and you squint, blinking away- water maybe? Ouch, nope, holy shit that is not water because whatever it is, it _burns_.

You hiss and try and jerk away from whatever the mystery substance is, but something's holding you back. You have absolutely no idea where you are and you think you're tied to a chair.

You hear something sloshing around then you feel rather see, the acid stuff splash onto your skin again; on your forearm this time. You try yet again to blindly pull away and get nothing for your efforts but a hard slap to the face.

You stop struggling as a white-hot piece of metal is pressed against your throat, and you scream so loud you hurt you hurt your own ears, at least until you get socked in the face again and the metal is withdrawn from your neck, leaving you hunched forward slightly and panting. You barely make out the muttered, "Cut him some slack," through your ringing ears and the splitting headache that accompanied them.

You swallow and close your eyes as you try to get your thoughts back in order, tasting blood when you lick your lips. Now, what is the last thing you remember? School, you were in your final class of the day. Then you started walking home since it was nice out today for once and you didn't feel like being squeezed in with all the other students on the bus. You were walking home and took your usual shortcut through the wooded patch of land near the park down the street from your house… and then nothing.

That's it. Zip. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Absolutely nothing past going past the first couple of trees.

Maybe you were kidnapped or held for ransom, though you and Dad can't even afford to fix your teeth, so paying a ransom wouldn't really be possible.

"Wake up, sleeping beauty." The acid-like stuff burns you on your back and you thrash, pulling at the restraints digging into your wrists, ankles, and midsection.

You were probably kidnapped, and now your kidnappers are torturing for no apparent reason. Oh, and the one who talked sounded like a guy, so at least you know that.

You try and keep the fear out of your voice when you say, "Let me go. Please."

You jump slightly when the answering voice is directly behind you, close. "Nope, not a happening thing." You close your eyes when you hear him step around to stand in front of you. Somewhere you'd heard or read that if you didn't know who your captor was or what they looked like, they were more likely to let you go since you wouldn't be able to identify them. Or so you hoped; it was a good a plan as any.

"Please! I don't have any money; my dad can't even afford to get me braces! I'm worthless, just let me go!"

The man grabs your hair and yanks your head back, and you reflexively open your eyes back up, glimpsing your kidnapper's face. You recognize him immediately. It's a kid from your school, just a grade above you. Dave Walker or something. His trademark sunglasses are a dead giveaway.

"Bull. Shit. You know what you are!" He practically spits in your face and you flinch, eliciting a look of disgust from him. "Don't even try to give us the whole innocent spiel; I don't want to hear it. Now, tell us where the others are." His voice is a low growl and it's an understatement to say you are very, very alarmed by Dave.

Eyes wide, you try and give him what he wants as best you can. "Others? I don't know what you're talking about, I swear!"

You don't see the blow to your face coming, but you certainly feel it, and it's more than hard enough to make your vision blur. You feel what is presumably blood drip from your nose, but luckily, you don't think it's broken. "Yes, the others you idiot!" You're yanked forward by your shirtfront, your face less than an inch away from Dave's, and your gaze is met with his own glare. His eyes are red and some part of you idly wonders if it's a genetic disorder. "Where. Are. They."

"I don't know who you're talking about!" Your voice shakes but you can't help it.

You're flung backwards and the chair you're strapped to tips over, and you squeeze your eyes shut, waiting to hit the floor, but you never do. After a moment you slowly open one eye, then the other. The other person in the room had stepped forward with remarkable speed and caught you (and the chair) just before you would have hit the floor. You peer up at him as best you can with your inverted view.

He bears a striking resemblance to Dave, though he seems a little sharper. Yes, that's the word that best describes him. He's thinner than Dave, his face narrower, and his expression is utterly blank. He barely gives you a passing glance with his bright orange eyes before righting you. He tuts at Dave, suddenly appearing beside you. Ruffling your hair with one hand, he tilts his head, otherwise ignoring you. "Now, now, Dave. No need to be rude to our guest." His voice has a slightly southern inflection to it, but is just as lacking in emotion as his expression. You aren't sure who to be more wary of, Dave, or this other character.

He might seem to care a tad more about your well-being, but his unnatural, calculating calmness unnerves you. He vaguely reminds of a few others at your high school that you knew for a fact were on something illegal; usually almost blissfully calm, but would violently flip out if provoked. You had always been sure to steer clear of the Makara's kind.

Dave lets out a low hiss. "This bitch isn't our guest. Demons aren't worthy of that title, not by a long shot."

Great. It's almost perfectly clear now. You got stuck with the lovely brand of homophobe known as the religious fanatic. Demons, how original. You obviously haven't been kidnapped for ransom, that's all too clear now if Dave's outbursts are anything to go by. So, judging what's been said, you've just become the victim of yet another hate crime. You'd make some plea about how they've got you pegged wrong, but you've been 'out' at school as bisexual for as long as you can remember and Dave would know you're lying. You never really got how liking men as well as women made you a demon, but you can't say you haven't heard worse.

Put simply, you are utterly screwed. You already know reasoning won't work, but that won't stop you from trying.

"I'm not a demon; you're insane!" Not the best plan, but you hadn't been exactly planning your words.

Before Dave gets out another retort, the other man cuts in, shushing the first. "What's your name?"

You ignore Dave's incredulous look, this time considering whether or not you should even say anything. You swallow before answering. "John. My name is John Egbert."

The man nods. "Dirk Strider." That's Dave's last name. It's easy to imagine the two are related, probably brothers judging by their appearances. Dirk is clearly the older of them though, and you put him at about twenty or so.

"Stop telling him things!" You look over at the red eyed boy again. If he was angry before, he was absolutely livid now, and you immediately look at the floor for fear of provoking him by doing little other than making eye contact.

"Why?" Dirk's voice is every bit as flat as before. "I think he really doesn't know what he is."

Dave scoffs. "Right, and we're a couple of virginal nuns."

Dirk smacks him upside the head. "Can it. Let's not be hasty here; if he truly has no idea, well then it's our duty to tell him."

"I still say it'd be better if we just stick a knife through his eye and be done with it."

"And undo months of tracking? Hardly. He could be a valuable asset."

"You don't know that! We don't even know what kind he is yet! He could be nothing more than an utterly useless sprite of some sort!"

You ignore their banter and death threats, tugging at your restraints. You're so focused on wiggling around that when the straps all seem to suddenly open of their own accord you fall forward, directly into Dirk's waiting arms.

You hardly even have time to resist as you're hauled to your feet and your body is pulled up against Dirk's. His scent fills your nose and clouds your mind, all thoughts of resistance melting away to be rapidly replaced with ones of desire. You snake your arms around his waist, purring when Dirk strokes your hair. You want to feel him all over, to touch him, to be touched by him, to kiss him and…

Your lustful thoughts are interrupted by Dirk's voice, which suddenly sounds soooo much more attractive, silky and low. "Incubus, and a hungry one if the amount of pheromones he's putting out are anything to go by."

His words don't quite compute, and you simply bury your face in the crook of Dirk's neck, inhaling his intoxicating smell. You can feel the muscles through his shirt and you find you'd much rather feel them without it. Your hand stray lower down Dirk's back, reaching to toy with the edge of his white shirt, but your hands are gently pried away and forced down to your sides. You whine when Dirk takes a step back from you, hands still holding onto your wrists. "Keep those hands above the equator sweetheart." While you appreciate the skin-to-skin contact, it's not nearly enough. You feel like crying for the loss. You look up to meet Dirk's beautiful eyes, showing your feeling of betrayal with your gaze.

You want him so badly.

Despite this, you're easily distracted by the noise of disgust from the other side of the room. Turning your head at an angle that some part of you knows should be impossible, you look at Dave, who is currently glaring daggers at you for reasons you can't quite remember. You feel the best course of action would be to kiss all that anger away. Pleasure would look good on his face; in fact, you're already imagining him beneath you, moaning, or perhaps maybe you under him, yes, you like that idea.

Unfortunately, you don't get the chance to put that plan into action, as Dave flashes across the room to grab you by the hair, _again_, and throws you to the ground then pin you beneath him, you on your back and him on you. You don't mind per say, but you do wish he'd be a little gentler. Then again, maybe it would be fun to have such a rough partner.

He leans close enough to kiss you, your noses nearly touching. "Don't you _ever_ fucking touch my brother again, or I swear I'll.." You stop paying attention long enough to look up at Dirk leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, an amused smirk on his face. You glance back to Dave, who's still ranting and threatening you. "..then I'll kick you in the nuts so damn hard your grandkids will be feeling it a hundred years from n-" Deciding he's been talking entirely too long, you tilt your head just enough so that your lips can meet his.

Dave shoves you back down to the dirty floor, releasing your wrists. He jumps to his feet, suddenly producing another knife from somewhere on his person, and snarls at you, about to lunge. You shrink away from him, suddenly filled with, again, a sense of betrayal.

Dave's weapon seems to disappear from his hand almost as quickly as Dirk appears between the two of you. "Get ahold of yourself," he barks it like a command, sharp and unyielding. "you're the professional here, fuckin' act like it." Dirk offers you his hand, which you eagerly take, then wrap yourself back around him, resting your head against his shoulder and closing your eyes to drink in that delicious _something_ that seems to cling to his skin like an aura. It makes you giddy and relaxed all at once and you never want to stop feeling this way.

Dirk's voice as he speaks to his brother is both far away and extremely close feeling, like you were underwater.

"He's hungry is all; how'd you expect a starving incubus to act when someone as attractive as us is around?" You can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he rubs a hand up and down your back again, eliciting that rumbling purr from within your chest again. You feel him chuckle against you. "See what I mean? He's like a goddamn cat right now; completely harmless if you handle him right."

"I don't believe that for a second. For one, if it's an incubus, then why didn't I notice it the moment I picked up its scent? I don't know what it is, but I don't like it, it's not human, and I certainly don't trust it."

Dirk doesn't stop petting you. "He, _he_ isn't human, not it. And that's more than a little hypocritical of you." You hear low hiss. "Shut up, Dave, it's true and you know it." You know what they're saying, word-wise, but you can't find the will to string the words and meanings into coherent thoughts or ideas, just pretty noises made by pretty voices. "And from his lack of knowledge and self-control, I'd say the reason you haven't been able to figure him out is because he hasn't been mated yet."

You perk up at the word 'mated' and blink, vaguely remembering it has something to do with sex.

Dirk ruffles your hair again and you lean into his touch. "Yeah, yeah, John, I got it."

"What the fuck do you mean 'he hasn't been mated'?"

"Looks like _somebody_ needs to read up on their sex-demons. It's just like it sounds like: he hasn't been fucked, or more specifically, he hasn't been fucked since becoming an incubus, which I would guess was about a week ago. It's typically the duty of the one that changed them to feed the newbie and teach them the ins and outs of demonhood, but this poor little guy's bloodmaster seems to have skipped out on him, isn't that right?" He pulls away for a second to press a kiss to your forehead, and you can't help but make a happy trilling noise, giving Dirk the biggest smile you could before tucking yourself back into his arms.

"Ugh, so? I fail to see how any of that affects us at all. And will you please _stop_ kissing on him? It's disgusting to watch honestly."

"I wasn't finished speaking, dipshit. The bloodmaster, or rather, whoever mates 'em first, forms a permanent, albeit onesided bond with the freshly turned little demon, leaving the fucker intensely loyal to the bloodmaster in some weird play on family bonding. No idea why it's that way, but that's how it is. See where I'm going with this?" You're sure you heard the word 'mate' and 'fuck' a few times, and can only hope that's where Dirk's going with this.

There's silence for a few moments, excluding your near continuous purring as you press yourself against Dirk. "You can't..you can't be serious Dirk! Fucking an incubus, what the hell are you thinking?! Hint, hint: you aren't! Now just let me kill him so we can get on with doing what we came here for in the first place!"

"I'm thinking about this a lot more logically than you are. I screw him and we get a nice little demon pet, plus he gets a meal out of the deal. Having one of his kind under our power means we could send him ahead to check shit out for us without the others catching on. Hell, he could probably stroll right into a hive and be fine. And we get a free fuck whenever he gets hungry. C'mon, it'll be fun."

You get yanked away from Dirk with a small shriek on your part, and end up on the opposite side of the room with a small _pop!_

You stare at the blond brothers across from you on wobbly legs and with wide-eyes, unsure of how you got there. Dirk mutters something under his breathe, just loud enough for you to hear. "Fuckin' hell, he's a teleporter too."

Dave hasn't moved since you did, and you fall to your knees, completely drained of all the golden energy you got from Dirk. Dave seems to snap out of it at about the same time Dirk does. "Shit, if he's got atypical powers…" he trails off, thinking.

Dirk tries to pull you up to your feet again, but you only manage to sway before collapsing. He exhales, and then you're being lifted into his arms, bridal style. You sigh contentedly, absorbing more of that electric energy radiating off him as you hook your arms around his neck and peck him on the check. You yawn, blinking as you're carried out of the room, your vision fuzzy with exhaustion. You make out a car at one point and being put in the back seat to lay with Dirk. You fall asleep shortly after that.

**Author's Note:** **This might just end up being a oneshot, it depends if people want me to continue. If it does continue, the next chapter would involve smut. Maybe even a threesome.**


	2. Chapter 2

Your name is Dirk Strider and you currently have an incubus lying unconscious in your arms.

You had grabbed him out of his restraints on a whim, simply to see how he reacted. If he attacked, you'd kill him, if he ran, you'd simply put him back. But instead, he clung to you in way you couldn't help but find adorable.

The purring thing was pretty cute too.

All cuteness aside though, this particular incubus would become powerful to say the least, provided he get the proper care, which you fully intend to provide for him as long as you can exploit him in some way. If he could manage _teleportation_ on an empty stomach, unmated and unbonded, then you can't wait to see what he'll be like in few decades. Provided Dave doesn't murder him before then.

You can't blame him for hating John; he hated all demons on principle, himself included. He just happens to have a special spot in his heart for incubi due to the unfortunate fact that an incubus had been the one to finally finish off your Bro.

You never had the heart to tell Dave that he went willingly, and had been converted rather than killed. Better for Dave's mental health that way. Dave never forgave Bro (whom you both know to really be your and his father) for shacking up with a succubus when you were five, resulting in Dave, but he still worshipped him as his hero, so you couldn't bring yourself to Dave the truth all those years ago.

Roxy, as she called herself, had shown up months after disappearing from your and Bro's life, only there to shed a few tears and shove Dave at Bro for him to take care of. You hadn't hated her for it, hell no, you got a brand new baby brother because of her inability to be a proper parent, and for that you were unspeakably thankful. Dave on the other hand, utterly despised being what he perceived as less than human, despite the advantages his partially demonic blood gave him. You sometimes wonder what he'd think of you if Dave knew who your mother really was, rather than some prostitute off the street like he thinks. You move away from that line of though; it never leads to anything good. Besides, you've got John to think about now.

He's still asleep as you lay him down on your shared motel bed, and you can't help but feel a twinge of guilt as you examine him. He looks so young, sixteen or seventeen, eighteen years old at the most. He reminds you of when Dave had been younger, much, much younger, when he still loved his shitty raps and was obsessed with apple juice. It's not John's physical appearance that resembled Dave's younger self, no, it's the adorable way he instinctively curls into a ball, wrapping the sheets around himself to form a burrito of splotchy sheets and black-haired boy. So. Fucking. Cute.

Yet you're still going to have sex with John to make him your slave. You truly are despicable.

You might not be giving John much of a choice in this (no, you refuse to think like that, he needs this or he'll die, or be end up being exploited by someone even worse than you), but you want him to be at least somewhat willing. You slowly exhale through your nose, then strip down to your boxers and settle in next to John, slowly untangling him from the blankets so you won't freeze to death at night with the shit heaters in this place. In your opinion, Washington is too damn cold no matter what day of the year. You finally get comfortable on the lumpy mattress and are about to fall asleep when you feel John curl up against you, shivering. You turn over and hug him to your bare chest, smearing a bit of his tar-black blood on you. You'll clean him up in the morning; for now, you're just going to take a nice long snooze with an incubus at your side.

Dirk: Be sex-crazed John==

You have no idea what the thought that just popped into your head means, but you don't care in the least. You're far too busy giving Dirk a passionate 'good-morning' kiss, though he soon pushes you back down onto the bed, and you hope he doesn't stop.

He stops.

You make puppy eyes at him, the effect somewhat nullified by your aroused panting. You would like nothing more than to be fucked into the mattress until you've forgotten your own name. When the puppy eyes don't work, you grab Dirk by the shoulders and haul him towards you with a surprising amount of strength, fully prepared to take what you need by force.

You're stopped when Dirk backhands you across the cheek, and you whine dejectedly, flopping back down onto the rumpled covers and sniffling. You fight back tears; why won't anybody just _fuck_ you. It's all you really want at this point. And you're so hungry, though the achy feeling isn't just in your stomach, it's spread throughout your entire body, a feeling of pure loss and emptiness.

Dirk lies back down next to you, pulling you back into his arms much like the day before, and you latch onto him, tugging at the energy around him. It tastes different today, not so much gold and orange as a dark yellow with a pale gray tinge. It worries you and you nuzzle against Dirk, attempting to whine your discontentment. It never occurs to you to try to speak and use words to communicate with him.

You're so hungry, but you don't feel right stealing away more of Dirk's energy, some part of you saying he needs it for some reason, and you don't want to hurt him. He's been so kind to you after all, despite the occasional whack. You still can't help but nip at his neck, next to the jugular, not really surprised when he nudges you away.

The two of you simply lay there in bed together, locking eyes. Dirk's only wearing boxers, you realize, and quickly wriggle out of your own clothing (underwear included), tossing them off the side of the bed so you can scoot a little closer to Dirk without the fabric barrier between you and him . You nearly bounce with joy when the blond moves so that he can kiss you, your (nearly) naked bodies pressed together and a feeling flooding through you like Dirk's energy before, but ten times more intense. You gasp against Dirk's mouth, grinding your hips up against his own clothed ones. Your fingers dance down his tanned and freckled skin to tug at his boxers, expecting to finally get some relief, only to have Dirk shove you away and nearly jump out of your shared bed. You reach for him, but he seems to vanish into thin air.

This time, you actually do cry, burying your face into the pillows and sobbing. Everybody keeps _leaving_ you and you don't know why. First they get you all worked up with the promise of what you want and need, like _him_, and now Dirk too, only to leave you and disappear. Is there something wrong with you? Are you just that repulsive?

John: Be the guilty hunter==

You are the guilty hunter, and you feel like utter shit. You can't do it, you cannot bring yourself to take advantage of John while he's in this state of mind. While the idea of fucking him senseless definitely has its appeal, you also know he's in no way able to consent to this. Sure, consent hadn't really been a big factor in your plans when you got the idea, but now things with John remind you far too much of your own experience with a past partner, and well, becoming someone like your old boyfriend is a horrific idea to say the least.

After shoving John off you, you flashstep back to the car and open the trunk to pull out a medium sized black box with a cursed lock, not caring who saw you in your underwear. Muttering the words to safely unlock it, you open the leather covered thing to reveal vial upon vial of various multicolored liquids, three of which you remove from the box, along with an empty one. You glance around the empty parking lot, still only half lit with the yellow light of the streetlamps flickering at two in the morning. You wish John had slept a bit longer so you'd have more time to handle this, but not much you can do now.

You turn your attention back to the vials of red, purple, and green liquids, pouring a few drops of each into the empty vial, no bigger than your pinkie finger. The mixture rapidly swirls into black when you put a cork in it and shake the glass. That should do it. You hold onto the small container and put the rest of the supplies back in the trunk.

You flashstep the rest of the back to your and John's motel room, pausing to put your ear to the door across the hall. Dave's still sleeping.

You turn back to the other room and open the door, stepping in to shut it as quietly as possible. You had hoped John would have fallen asleep in your absence, but instead you're greeted by the sight of the small blue-eyed boy clutching at the sheets as he hiccups and cries almost silently, face buried in your pillow.

Shit. You move to his side, not really paying attention to your speed. You put a hand on his shoulder and he jolts, looking up at you with his strange eyes, though you are hardly one to judge. You sit down on the bed next to him, letting him crawl into your lap. He's distressed, though you have no idea why, and you do your best to calm him, hugging him close the way he liked before and humming softly. John's still naked, but you don't really mind; not like you've never seen a dick before. After John's breathing returns to normal, you move him back off you and onto the bed, standing up to fetch a washcloth and some bandages for John's minor injuries. You don't get much farther than a step before John grabs your wrist, pulling you back towards him.

You turn back towards him to see he's almost as alarmed as when you first walked in, eyes wide and looking utterly terrified.

You don't move. "What?"

He whines in response, tugging on your arm again.

"Use your words." He tilts his head in response like a puppy, considering what you said.

He makes a sort of noise vaguely resembling the word 'alone'.

Oh. He thinks you're going to abandon him.

You kiss him on the cheek. "I'll be back in a sec, don't worry."

John slowly lets up on his iron grip, letting you open up your bag you had dumped by the door. He watches you curiously as you put down the vial of black liquid in favor of grabbing a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and a clean washcloth. You sit down at the foot of the bed and motion for John to come closer.

He flops down into your lap, and you can't help but chuckle. You pat John on the head and he starts purring again, and you can't help but chuckle. "Who the hell gave you permission to be so cute?" He flicks a pointed ear in your direction, otherwise not reacting.

You sigh, running your hand down John's chest, and he shivers, his cheeks flushing. Oops, you kinda forgot about the hypersensitivity thing. Murmuring an apology, you wet the cloth with the peroxide and dab it over the burns from the holy water Dave kept splashing him with. The stuff didn't really affect you other than making you a bit light-headed if you drank the stuff, but it would have been like acid to full-blooded demon. You need to talk to Dave about toning down the cruelty.

John hisses and squirms, forcing you to hold him down on your lap as you clean the worst of his injuries. When you're finished John's shaking and clinging to you, obviously in pain. "Sorry, but it was that or risk infection. These'll heal up in no time once you actually get something to eat, just lemme bandage you up real quick." You reach to move John off of you so you can get said bandages, but he flinches away from you and darts away, moving with surprising speed to hide under the bed.

You leave the blackened washcloth on the bed in favor of getting down on your stomach to peer at John, hiding among the dust-bunnies. Damn it, this is one time his smaller stature is to his advantage instead of yours. You can't fit under there to get him, the little shit. Sure, you felt bad for hurting him, but it was necessary. Unfortunately, John doesn't seem to be in a forgiving mood, a low growl coming from the back of his throat. You whistle. "C'mere, boy."

He glares at you, pupils back to slits in his pale blue eyes. Oh well, worth a try. Looks like you'll have to come up with a way to lure him out. From the way he's making himself comfortable under there, he doesn't plan on leaving any time soon and you'll have to have a hell of a treat to get him out from under there. Luckily, it doesn't take a genius to know what an incubus would want.

Standing and brushing yourself off, you glance back at the bed before exiting the room, making sure to lock the door behind you. Time to put some of that Strider freakiness to good use.

You knock on Dave's door and bang on it until he throws it open, wearing nothing but his birthday suit. If looks could kill, you'd have just been incinerated.

"What the fuck do you want Dirk? Because, unlike _some_ people, I was actually sleeping." You normally don't ever bother each other on the rare occasions either of you get to sleep, but this is a special case.

"We need to fuck. Now." Dave's instant confusion is hilarious, and you fight to keep your expression blank.

"Dude, is you wanted a midnight bootycall, use the damn demon, because unless you've suddenly developed a thing for somnophilia, I can't help you." You bite back a comment that you hadn't developed that kink 'suddenly' at all. It was barely even a kink for you anyway.

"Just get your fine ass to my room and I'll explain." You and Dave had gotten just a tad incestuous over the years, and by a tad, you meant you screwed on a regular basis. Neither of you had a problem with it, not like either of you could get pregnant, and it's consensual, so really, why not? You're only half-brothers anyway.

Dave makes a noise of exasperation and follows you back into your room. He looks around, running a hand through his screwed up hair. "Hey, where's the incubus? Don't tell me you lost him already, because I am _not_ going after him for you. This is what happens when we get pets Dirk, I fucking called it. Knew you couldn't manage him."

"Why don't you take a seat my dear?" You bow, gesturing to the bed.

Dave's eyes narrow in suspicion, easily visible since he left his shades back in his room along with his clothes. "Why? What'd you do to the bed? You probably did some stupid shit like put a whoopee cushion in the mattress didn't you? I'm not fallin' for it."

"Yes, that is exactly what I did. You win and I, Dirk Strider, have lost this pranking war because my genius little bro decided not to sit on the bed."

"Well maybe I wanna sit on the bed. You can't stop me."

"Of course not."

He's silent for a minute. "This double reverse psychology bullshit won't work on me, I'm going to sit on the bed and that's final."

Too easy.

Maintaining eye contact with you, Dave strides towards the bed and stands in front of it. "Look, this is me, about to sit, right here, on _this_ be-" John chooses the perfect moment to let a loud hiss, making Dave shriek like a girl and bolt away from the bed to stand by your side. You couldn't be more proud.

"What the _fuck_ was that?!" Aw, Dave pissed off. You always thought he was cute when he was angry, just like any other time.

"That'd be John. He's throwing a hissyfit since I used the peroxide on his burns, which, I might add, are your fault." You put your hands on your hips, one eyebrow raised in the '_what the fuck were you thinking_' pose.

Dave growls, only to jump when John growls right back. You snicker and he shoots you another scathing look. "Well where the shit is he?"

You jerk your thumb towards the bed. "Under there. I want your help getting him out."

"Let me get this straight, because he's under there, you think now would be the perfect time to fuck. How's that gonna work? You pound me into the mattress so hard he has no choice but to evacuate?"

"Nice idea, but no. I just want to lure him out."

"Oh so I'm bait? Lovely."

"Shut up. Besides, if we both fuck him, we can both control him. Obviously, it'd have to be all at once so we both qualify as first."

He raises his eyebrows. "So the plan is actually to fuck until he gets sick of playing the voyeur and joins in to form a semi-incestual threesome?"

"Yep."

"Alrighty then, but are we really going to do this right above him?"

You briefly consider it. "Nope, he gets a full view. We're doing it on the floor."

At Dave's look of horror, you yank a sheet off the bed and spread it on the floor. "There. Better?"

"If I catch something from this, I'm suing you."

"I'm sure that would go over well in court. I can see the headlines now. Brother fucks brother and gets STD off dirty floors and motel sheets."

"It's the thought that counts, asshole."

You roll your eyes and motion for Dave to sit on the sheet. He complies while you turn around to grab the lube out of your bag.

Dirk: Be John again==

You are John.

You are also thoroughly enjoying the show being put on for you. You've crept forward to get as close as you can without joining in, still under the bed. You don't even need to join in to feel the red and gold energy rolling off the pair and it's every bit as strong as when you were grinding against Dirk. You lick your lips as you observe them. If you'd been in your right mind, you'd have been disgusted with yourself, but you aren't, so you aren't.

You aren't particularly interested Dave right now, his red colored pleasure just doesn't appeal to you the way Dirk's does; Dave's energy seems too _familiar_, like something that you shouldn't touch. Dirk however, has the perfect blend of familiarity and difference from Dave's to make you want him all the more.

When Dave seems to do something just right, Dirk moans, and it's music to your ears. You take note whenever this happens, wanting to be just as good for him if you ever get the chance. You don't interrupt though, you wouldn't want to disturb them and stop all that delicious pleasure.

When they finally finish, you feel totally relaxed and recharged, yet pleasantly sleepy, like you just had a huge meal. Which, technically, you did.

They seem frustrated about something though. Maybe it wasn't as satisfying as usual for them. You doubt it; that looked fantastic if you say so yourself, which you do.

They talk for a bit, and you listen despite not understanding a word they're saying. Dirk talks the most, and you appreciate it.

"I know, I know. Ugh. It'll only get worse though. If he doesn't directly get something soon, then he'll go feral." Dirk and Dave are lying on the same spot they fucked on, reeking of sex and sweat.

"Feral. Care to tell me what that is or…?"

"He loses just about all higher thinking, basically reverts to a purely animalistic being, despite his humanoid appearance. No control whatsoever, let alone trying to conceal themselves from humans, hunter or no. Shit like this is why the whole bloodmaster system they have going is so important. Frankly, we're just lucky he isn't aggressive."

You get tired and eventually Dave leaves, muttering something about how the stupid demon was lucky to get a look at this prime piece of meat, and how dare it not join.

After that, Dirk cleans himself up and crawls in bed, turning off the lamp on the nightstand. You emerge from your hideout to crawl in next to him once he falls asleep. You don't want him to hurt you again.


	3. Chapter 3

You are furious. Absolutely enraged in fact.

You had been _so close_, and now your plan had bit the dust.

Perhaps turning the events over in your mind would calm you down a tad, keep you from getting too reckless.

It had been a snap decision, turning John the way you had, but he had been simply irresistible, his scent prickling at your nose. Even as a human, you picked up the trace of familiarity in him, barely even recognizable it was so diluted by his humanity. But you'd know a demon anywhere, even one with a bloodline so mixed with humans as his. It would have slipped most others notice, but most others weren't you. Besides, your previous mates died together in a rather gruesome accident and while you missed the amber and pink-eyed demons terribly, you wanted a new mate, and lo and behold, you'd stumbled across John on his way home.

He was a handsome fellow, if that wasn't too narcissistic of you to think. Not typically your type, a bit smaller in stature than you and fewer muscles to speak of, but you could whip him into shape if need be.

You'd confronted him soon after he entered the sparse forest like area you'd been resting in, whistling down to him from your tree perch. He'd glanced up just as soon as you'd hopped down, stumbling away the moment he laid eyes on you. You hadn't bothered to disguise yourself as human, better to let him know what the chap was dealing with. As expected, your appearance was startling to most with your slit pupils and black sclera, clawed fingers, pointed ears, shrimpy and useless green scales wings, and long leathery tail, not to mention your double rows of teeth.

The main row looked relatively human, just a little too white from the acid in your spit, unlike the secondary, primarily comprised of retractable incisors designed for cutting and tearing of the flesh. It was technically unnecessary for an incubus such as yourself to possess such attributes, but you were a mutt of sorts and never did learn of what breeds you all were, though it was obvious that you mainly incubus since your grandmother herself had been a noble succubi, seducing men and women left and right for hundreds of years before her eventual demise at the hands of time, a death few of your kind would ever have the privilege to, thanks to the increasing hunter population. You had her to thank for most of these attractive demon features, though her own jade colored wings were fully operational, unlike your undersized ones.

You'd pounced on John and grinned, soaking in his terror. He'd screamed, only to be silenced by your mouth on his. You take advantage to flick your tongue between his soft lips and into his mouth, tasting him directly and stealing a string of that icy blue aura, making shivers run down your spine before John shoves against you. Withdrawing your tongue back into your own mouth, you bare your teeth at him, a not so friendly smile.

You remain there for about five minutes, sitting on John's chest as he struggles in vain and you whisper all the things to want to do to him once he's like you into his ear, only fueling his fighting until he finally gives in with a sob. You coo your satisfaction and then get to work on him.

You lean back, letting him lay there with his eyes squeezed shut. "Come on, open up."

He clenches his jaw in response, amusing you.

"I meant your eyes, darling. I want to see them change."

He doesn't move and you sigh, flicking your tail back and forth. Oh well. You seize John's hand in yours and draw your nails across his palm in one swift motion, pulling a gasp from John, then do the same to your other hand, pressing your and his palms together. Your thick blood sluggishly mixes with his and he hisses in pain at the stinging sensation you know he'll feel at first, soon to be replaced by a pleasant tingle as the aphrodisiac in your shared blood takes effect. Your other hand covers his mouth until you feel that he's had enough blood pumped into his system that he'll start the change within the next few hours. Your hand heals in a matter of seconds after you stare at the cuts, willing them to close, then do the same for John. It's a pity how unlikely it is he'll inherit that power, but you can still hope. Hope is a powerful thing after all.

You stand and help a rather dazed John to his feet. He leans against you, murmuring a thanks as he sways slightly. "It's no problem mate. Here, allow me."

You easily pick him up, wrapping his legs around your hips so you can carry him better. You feel his hot breathe against your collar, noting his exhaustion. Good, he'll be sleeping soon enough so he'll have more energy later as his body changes to more closely resemble yours.

Golly though, he's lighter than he looks, so it's an easy task to bring him back to your makeshift living quarters, far, far deeper into the forest this strip of trees connects to. You hardly even consider the place where you found John as woods, too many worn paths and too few trees. Quickly reaching your destination, you clear a small patch of shrubbery for John to lie down in with you. He succumbs to his tiredness and you keep him close as night falls, on the lookout for anything that may try to harm John in his vulnerable state, as well as making sure his body temperature doesn't drop too far. He feels clammy as it is, in a cold sweat, but that's normal.

Before the night is out, his ears are pointed and his eyes match his aura in color, and when he awakens, his pupils are blown wide with lust. His other, more demonic features, won't show up until you've mated, a safety precaution in case he turns out to be more dangerous than anticipated, though you have a feeling that won't be an issue with John. His pupils are blown wide with lust as the sun rises and he kisses you, making you smile against his lips.

He's more eager than you'd have thought. You like it.

You roll onto your back, pulling John on top of you. Some demons preferred to do the deed as forcefully as possible, to assert their dominance, but John's already yours. You want him as your mate and companion, not your slave, so you'll treat him with the respect he deserves.

John straddles you and leans down to mash your lips together, a role reversal of your earlier positions.

You move your tongue against his, and snake a hand around him to cop a feel of his rump, grinning at the slightly surprised squeak you hear from John he pulls away from you to bury his face in your bare chest. You only ever wear a pair of shorts, finding other articles of clothing unnecessary. Giving his rather firm derriere another squeeze, you reposition him so that you can pepper his neck with kisses, stopping to leave a mark here and there, relishing his pants and gasps as you rock your hips into his. He happily reciprocates, grinding down against you with a wanton moan. The two of you go at it for a bit before you murmur the words, "Now for the real show," into his ear, nipping at it as he shivers with delight.

You flip him over so that now you're on top, John staring up at you with half closed eyes, his cheeks beautifully greyed with the flush of his newly blackened blood, though the prominent bulge in his pants suggest his blood is rushing elsewhere. You smirk as you rub your palm against it, making him squirm. He even manages to gasp out a broken, "P-..f-fuck, please." It's impressive he can even think clearly at a moment like this, so you reward him by unbuttoning his jeans then-

You hear a howl off in the distance.

Fuck. No, dammit, you needed this. But it looks as though John will have to wait.

Anybody else would think it a wolf or dog of some sort, but you know that sound all too well, slightly metallic in a way you wouldn't notice unless you were listening for it, like it was artificially produced. You also know that the man who made it would have you made into leather if he ever saw you again, and you feel a pang of fear for John's sake. He might be spared by your ex-lover, but the man's brother would almost certainly kill him for the sake of killing him, and the two never went far apart. If one is near, the other surely close behind.

John whines when you remove yourself from his person, but you ignore it in favor of scooping him back up into your arms and running deeper into the forest, carrying him like he was nothing.

You aren't even sure if they're tracking you or not, but you still hear Strider catching up to you. You have two choices, a) turn and fight, or b) leave John behind so you can outrun the half demon. You know it's unlikely either of you would you survive if you try and fight, so it's with great pain that you set John down at the base of a tree, kneeling before him and taking his face in your hands. "Sleep," you say "And when you wake up, you'll forget you ever saw me." You simply will the words to become truth, powered by your mere belief in them. Mind isn't your forte, so the effects will wear off soon enough, but hopefully not until the Striders are finished with him.

John slumps backward, face relaxing, and you desperately wish his ignorance will save him, despite knowing that is one instance in which hoping will do no good.

You run as fast as you can, veering away from both Strider and John.

* * *

Well that didn't help at all. You are just as pissed off as before, if not more so. You decide to go back to find John, or at least see if he was still alive, risks be damned. You need a mate and by golly, you refuse to let your new interest get slaughtered by the Strider brothers. If Broderick was still around, you'd have given your now deceased mate stern talking to about his children's behavior. You miss him of course, just as much as Roxy, but if they had still been alive, you never would have had your brief and passionate romance with the second youngest of the Strider men. You think fondly back on those times you, Bro, and Roxy had been all together, content to feed off each other and go wherever you pleased. But those times are gone now.

You'll settle for having John.

**Author's Note: Wow, thank for all the reviews; I didn't think this many people would want this continued!**


	4. Chapter 4

Be the sleepy hunter ==

You are the sleepy hunter.

Yawning, you stretch out in your bed, only to find your movement severely impeded by John clinging to your torso. He murmurs something in his sleep, nuzzling against you, and the moment seems strangely intimate, but you suppose that is only logical since the two of you are both stark naked.

John must have crawled in with you after passed out, tired from the nights 'activities'. You idly brush your fingers through his tangled mop of hair and John cracks open one eye to peer up at you as he leans into your touch. He's purring again. You run your tongue over your cracked lips. "Fuck, now you wanna cuddle?" You groan, shutting your eyes again. You'd have appreciated it if he'd done this last night instead of hiding. John simply licks your shoulder in response.

Making a face, you pry him away from you and gently admonish him. "Okay, first rule, no licking." You're sure he can't even understand you at this point, so it falls on deaf ears.

You leave him lying there on top of the blankets in favor of taking a well-deserved hot shower, or what would've been a hot shower if the motel had even halfway decent plumbing, which it didn't. It's not even worth staying in longer than twenty minutes, as opposed to your usual hour plus "infinity showers" as Dave had dubbed them, so you're out of the dingy bathroom just in time to see John playing with the contents of your bag or more specifically the gauze bandages, like a cat would with yarn, easily amusing himself by completely unrolling it and just making a mess in general. He's lying on his back and tossing the white gauze up and town, tangling himself in it as he does so.

John stops when he notices you, looking like a dog that's just been caught stealing food off the kitchen table: pleading for your forgiveness yet not at all ashamed. You decide it's more than time to talk to John in his right mind instead of whatever state of mind this is. Luckily, he hadn't gone entirely through your duffel bag and the potion you'd mixed up last night lay undisturbed alongside your various hair products (which are very important for maintaining your hair perfection). You hold it between thumb and forefinger, examining its contents. You really hope this'll work.

Turning to John, you whistle to get his attention the way you would to a dog while making a little 'come here' motion. Or at least you hope that's how John will interpret it; it was kinda vague. He seems to understand anyway, getting up to stand less than a foot away from you and lacking any sense of personal space whatsoever. John's seemed pretty trusting of you, all things considered (excluding the whole hiding under the bed thing) and you hope that that trust carries over to when he's lucid, if only to make this ordeal easier for the both of you.

You uncork the little vial and empty the oily substance into your mouth, resisting both the urge to swallow and the urge to spit the black liquid onto the ground. It tasted a bit like blood with none of the good parts, grossly metallic, and sickly sweet at the same time, with a hint of something burnt; in short, disgusting.

You hastily close the gap between you and John, thankful for his eagerness as you take his face in your hands, holding him there as you kiss him open-mouthed and pushing the vile tasting potion out of your mouth and into his. Overall, it wouldn't have been that bad of a kiss if not for the flavor. When you release John his body language radiates tenseness and confusion, as well as his face being plastered with a near comical expression of utter befuddlement. Looks as though it works even faster than you'd thought (assuming it would work in the first place). He nearly collapses and you have to help support him, his arms wrapped around your neck as he stares up at you

Hesitantly opening his mouth, John so eloquently asks, "I... What?"

You don't answer, waiting for him to get his bearings, which takes another few moments of blinking at you and opening and shutting his mouth as he tries to get his thought in order. When he finally does though, the first thing he asks is, "Why am I naked?"

You smirk, slipping back into your usual demeanor, and tilt your head in the direction of the bed. "You stripped down and threw them on the floor in your race to get in my pants." John gapes at you. "You always this talkative? Geez, let somebody else say something every now and then, you chatterbox."

Dirk: Be John ==

You are John, and you also have no idea where you are or why you're here, not to mention the fact that you aren't wearing one piece of clothing and neither is Dirk. The last thing you really remember is falling out of the chair him and his brother had tied you to. You are in a small and unclean room that has its furniture nailed down and wallpaper peeling off the walls, an ugly motel room by the looks of it. You smell mold.

Why are your arms around him? You try and let go so you can take a step back but the world spins around you when you try and carry your own weight, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in the orange eyed man's shoulder in an effort to quell your growing vertigo. "Where am I?" you croak. God you sound awful.

You don't expect an honest answer, especially since his explanation for your missing clothes is… is that… you… oh god. Your memories are as hazy as your sight, if not more so, you aren't wearing clothes, and you're alone with a man you don't even know anything about, just that he and his brother kidnapped you. They drugged you and you feel sick with the knowledge that they could have done _anything_ to you while you were out, with or without your consent. "My motel room," he answers. "It's pretty far from where we picked you up, so I wouldn't recommend trying to run." You're also being held captive.

But hey, look on the bright side, at least you weren't in Dave's room, he was much meaner to you.

It's not much consolation. Or any, really. You're vaguely aware that you start shaking in Dirk's arms, but everything seems so distant.

John: Faint ==

John goes limp in your grip, much to your surprise. Damn it. You have no way of knowing whether it was because he was so scared, which he obviously was, or because of the potion somehow. Hopefully he isn't allergic to an ingredient in it, because that would be just your luck.

Dragging him back over to the bed, you pick John up and set him down on the covers as gently as you can. Standing back and sighing, you consider tying him down in case he flips out but that would likely on further scare him. The incubus would just be able to zap himself out of restraints anyway.


End file.
